


Jack and the Giantess

by nocactus80



Category: Jack and the Beanstalk (Fairy Tale)
Genre: F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Macrophilia, Other, Sex, Teratophilia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-06 22:57:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15895839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocactus80/pseuds/nocactus80
Summary: Jack must find a way back to the Ogre's widow to marry her.  They wed. Normal fairy tale stuff + lots of graphic, macrophilia fetish sex. Slow burner.





	1. Of wealth and love

Jack Spriggens sat beside the fire, staring into his hand, and drinking his wine too fast. The stupid harp was quietly tuning herself, waiting to be instructed on what sort of music he wanted. He held a single impossibly heavy egg in his hand, firelight glowing on it's gold surface like a powder flash. He gazed into it, reliving the last few years, trying to find a some key he had overlooked. 

The first bag of gold he'd taken from the ogre paid of the family debt on the land, and put new thatch on the cottage and barn, no less and no more. The wheedlingly landlord however, greedy for more of the beautiful coins had raised the rent, and so Jack, despite having promised himself and his mother that he would never face the horror of Giantland again, found himself 'climbing the beanstalk' again two year later. 

No starving whelp was he this time, but a lad of 19, he gazed differently upon the ogre's wife. She remained terrifying, over 60' tall and when he stood in her hand it was more than half as wide as his out stretched arms. Yet as a sculpture instead of a monster, he could now recognize she had a rare beauty: black hair glistening like polished ebony, her green eyes as deep as the sea, her form shapely and full. She hated her ogre of a husband and conspired with Jack against him, smiling roguishly with her huge lips, and speaking softly to him, held only a few his paces from her face. It was she who convinced him to steal the Golden Hen, and she who explained the magic of the beanstalk to him, making it possible for him to carry under his arm, a hen he had ridden like a horse moments before. 

Her kindness and cleverness in the face of such monstrosity fascinated him, and she haunted his dreams. He dreamed of her constantly, as human woman and not a giantess. He suspected that she was a witch and had bewitched him, for he found himself longing for her company constantly. With the Golden Hen's eggs he and his mother no longer had any fears of poverty so there was no reason for him to ever go to Giantland again. Each egg was worth nearly a thousand shillings. 

Yet the beanstalk called him. He thought of the womanly shape of the giantess, her narrow waist and full hips, her breasts, bigger than he, spilling out of the top of her bodice. He needed to see her again, to hear the strangeness of a woman's high clear voice coming from a beast the size of a belltower. One year and a day after his last trip, he decided to 'rescue' the giantess. 

The Golden hen was the normal size to the Ogre, but the size of horse to him, yet, when nearing the beanstalk the hen seemed to melt away to normal size. Surely the giantess could do the same. He would take her back to the Spriggins farm, marry and her live happily forever more. The giantess wept huge, salty tears as he told her his plan. She was, in fact, not a giantess at all, but a princess of the fay made gigantic by some magic of the Giantland. She could not leave the castle until the Ogre died. 

Together they formed a plan to steal the Singing Harp. Ogres are the embodiment of human violence: hunger and bloodrage, and greed. Without sleep, they are consumed by their own monstrosity and wisp away on the wind as ash, so a singing instrument to lull them to sleep is their most valuable possession.  
But harp was as just cursed to serve the ogre as the giantess, and cried out as Jack ran, waking the Ogre. He followed Jack down the beanstalk to the land of humans, shrinking yes, but it was still a 10' tall monster, and Jack could only cut down the beanstalk to kill him. 

He'd killed the giant, but instead of a princess, he only had a singling harp.

“Play her favorite song again, “ he ordered the harp and tossing the golden egg in a basket with the rest. It landed with a metallic clack. He had all the wealth he'd ever imagined, but the princess in her castle was as gone as if they had never existed. He threw back the last swallow of wine. It was the finest French vintage he could buy, but it tasted sour and lonely.


	2. Chapter 2

Desperate to distract himself from his heart sickness, Jack set to making little improvements around his now prosperous farm. The work was far easier than it had even been, but he was shocked to find he spent nearly as many hours supervisors his tenant farmers as he had farmer when he was one. All attempts to grow a new beanstalk from the cuttings failed, and he ended seasoning the beanstalk wood in the hayloft. There was far too little to build much with and he felt that a magic plant should be put to some special use. 

While first it was soft and pulpy, as it dried, or perhaps as the magic went out of it, it grew tougher and harder. He made an étui case for his mother with it, and found it like more like hard, boiled leather than wood, growing stronger and harder even as he worked it, until it was more like a feather-light bronze than wood. This, and the idea of keeping is now lost princess near his heart inspired him to whittle a copy of his manor’s key in the curiously strong wood of the beanstalk. A regular wooden key would have been whittled in an evening, but the beanstalk wood seemed to fight blades and dull tools. It took him several nights of sitting by the fire, carving the key and trying it in the lock to the great front door on their manor before it slid in and opened the lock with smart and impossibly loud click. He’d let himself out to try it and stood shivering on the steps. 

“I’ll wake the whole house,” he thought as be pulled it open. It was a hassle to open the tall and heavy door to it’s full width, so merely opened it a man’s width and began to slide through the crack, but no sooner had he begun to shimmy through then felt he was falling, and his vision began to twist and shimmer. “It cannot be…” he whispered aloud, knowing the feeling of slipping from this world to Giantland quite well. On the beanstalk the transition was gradual. Through the doorway, it was as abrupt as being bucked off a horse. His vision began to grey, and sounds became faint. Struggling to get his arms in front of him he fell, and finally fainted, the key still clutched in his hand. 

Strange dreams floated through his mind: a candleholder on wall like a cliff, the snuffling of a colossal nose, dangling from his shirt and while soaking wet, swinging a few feet over the floor like a hung thief. Fingers as big as awkwardly but gently peeling him out of wet cloths, and finally a bed, as soft and itchy as a fresh haystack. 

A raw skinned neck awoke him, and pawed drowsily at the stiff collar of his nightshirt. 

“Why,” he thought blearily, “is my nightshirt as stiff as a board”?   
He remembered, “Ah yes, because some giant put me in it last night.” He had almost fallen asleep when the gravity of this thought hit him and he set up with a start, clutching his hands to his chest. He looked around his room wide eyed. His first thought was that he’d placed in a room designed to make men go mad. His bedding (and his nightshirt) were made of heavy cloth, like tarpaulin or sailcloth. The bed was nearly too short, and far too wide. A chair nearby was the room’s only other furniture. It was somewhat too close to the ground, and as roughly and massively made as the bed, with timbers more suited to a church roof than bedroom chair. A bearskin rug had been roughly and rudely painted on the floor, as had tapestries on the walls. The windows were somehow “wrong” in the walls, with the same huge timbers the chair and bed used, and no shutters or glass. 

It was then he realized that this was vision of a dollhouse, as seen by a doll. He had been imprisoned in a dollhouse.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack was not a violent man.  Until 2 years ago, he'd never owned anything worth stealing before, and while his mouth did often get him into trouble, he could talk his way out trouble nearly as fast.  He'd never owned a sword before, but he found himself longing for one.  He was generally an impetuous fellow, but the novelty of the situation was such he thought it best to sit in the bed and take stock of the situation.   All he could remember of the night before entering the Giantland with that cursed key.  Instinctively he put his hand to waist to see if his purse was still there.  Of course it wasn't, it was gone with the rest of his clothes.  

He made another look around the dollhouse room.  He could see out the windows, pane-less square holes that they were.  They had mullions though, of steel rod...or wire to a giant making a dollhouse, he surmised.   Silently he, crept out of bed and stole up to the window, leaving a trail of footprints in the dust. The scale of the view out the window transfixed him.  The room was the size of a parish church, a near cube approximately 150' on each side. Yet he bed was wider and deeper than house, though not much taller.  Comparing the size of the bed to the door in the wall and the window, he was able to determine that the room was a smallish one, by giant standards.  It's walls were plain whitewashed stone.  The bed, a bedside table the dollhouse was on, and trunk against the wall were all the furniture.  Perhaps it was a servant's room?  Why was he in a dollhouse in a servants room?  He sat back down the prickly bed to think.

"Alright, Jackie-boy," he said aloud.  People were for ever telling him God had made him clever to because he was so lazy the devil wouldn't even take him if he weren't.  He didn't feel very clever at the moment, perhaps if thought hard enough he could come up with something clever. The Ogre had threatened to eat him, so perhaps he was being saved for supper?  He laughed softly to himself.  He'd denuded many a bird before eating them, but he'd never redressed one in it's feathers again.  No one who was going to eat him would have dressed him before imprisoning him.  The floor was only a little dusty in front of the bed, but in the corners of his little room were carpeted with thick balls of the velvety stuff.  The room had been dusted badly, or in a hurry.  He patted the fat sack of straw he sat on, and found no dust poofed out, so who ever had dressed him also provided a clean bit of heather for his bed.

He began to sneak carefully out of the room, his bare feet silent on the painted floor. He found a hall, a stair and three more identical rooms, as well as a "seam" where the house could be split open for a young giantess to play with both halves.  It indeed was a dollhouse.  His feet left a obvious footprints in the deep dust, and found no others, so clearly he'd been placed in the room with the house split, guaranteeing it was giant who placed him there, since he was on the second floor.  He began to take the stairs slowly finding them far too large for a man, clearly they had been made for a doll.  He found a great hall which was empty, and a small windowless kitchen."Who goes there" cried Jack a looming figure in the darkness, his yell sounding hollow and weak in the dusty room, but it sat mute.  He moved towards it furtively before he saw what it was: a child's doll...nearly as tall as a man, and much broader.  It's yarn hair was as dusty as the floor.  Realizing it was a doll did ease Jack's anxiety.   A deep fear was beginning to knew at his guts: what if he was to be _kept_ as a doll or a pet mouse is kept?  What if this was his life now?  His breath grew ragged in his chest, and he bolted out of the little kitchen, intent only on finding the door.  Across the great hall, he saw a door sized ring of light around a dark square.He found it locked, but with a huge timber latch rather than key. With both hands he was able to grab the odd latch and open the door!  He had just stepped out of the house onto the surface of the table when he heard a far off jingling, like heavy sleigh bell, or a tiny church bell.  In the past he'd found the sound of bells to be cheerful and welcome, but in this strange place, even the common place became worrisome.  The bells grew closer still.  He looked in vain for some tree or bush to hide in, but of course, none were to be had on the surface of the table. Sighing with reluctance he began to ease back into the house.  The bells grew louder, and a grinding scratching noise came from the door. Hurrying, he closed the door and latched it again, just as tortoiseshell cat the size of a plow-horse pushed open the massive door to the bedroom, making a beeline for the dollhouse, and disappearing under the edge of the table, a bell on it's collar.

"Well, that's not so bad," thought Jack.  Suddenly the doll house shook like church in a storm, and the huge calico stared through the windows at him, having jumped upon the table. The tortiseshell was as tall as a man at the withers, and it's golden eyes were as big as pumpkins she it hunched down to peer at him  She was at once a hellbeast and a house cat.  Her jaws could about bite him in two, and he was sure her claws, yet sheathed, could lay him open as keenly as tiger's .  Yet for all that she was a handsome cat, with a white face, brown and black ears, and great pink nose.   He imagined a group of mourners around his grave clucking their tongues remorsefully, "...killed by 'ouse cat 'e was!", and smiled broadly, his fear giving way to merriment.  "Rode a frightened cat through a magic castle" could be "lie" he told at the public house if he only survived long enough. "Hello, Puss," he shouted with gusto.  The cat tilted it's head in confusion and curiosity leaned closer to the window, peering one way than the other.  Jack, safely out of reach, began to dance a little jig and sing a song as it came to mind.

_I am Jack! Jack am I!  I'll steal your lady and make you cry!_

_I stole the gold, I stole the hen, I have the  harp and I've come again!_

_To take the hand of a lady fair, to lift her skirt find what's there!_

_I am back! Back I am!  The Ogre killer has COME AGAIN!_

 

With the last, Jack fell to the floor in puff of dust, out of breath, but quite proud of his little rhyme.

"Meow," said the cat?

Just then, a familiar voice called from far away.  The cat leapt of the table and ran out the door.  Booming footsteps grew closer, and the great door to the room swung open, the great buxom giantess stood in the doorway, breathless from running down the hall,  her bosom raising and falling and falling.

"Are you awake, Jack?  Are you well?", she asked walking towards the dollhouse.She leaned forward to peer in with her hands on her knees, eyelashes fluttering over her enormous eyes!"My Princess," Jack shouted! "You've saved me!"A huge smile spread across her face and she opened the door,  her hand encircling Jack from below  his shoulders to his waist. drawing him impulsively out of the dollhouse and clutching him to her breast. She whispered to the top of his head, "you're alive," as she held him.He tried to cry out, but found that all the air had been squeezed out of him, and could barely sigh.   Her right hand held his body, her left his legs.  Her breasts, bigger than haystacks swelled on each side of him, and he could feel her heart beating beneath him, slow and steady, as if was laying in a clock tower.   The  view was lovely, but he needed air.  He wriggled one arm free and waved it frantically. 

"Oh!" she gasped, and gently set him down on the table.


End file.
